


Morning Run

by futurevampiress



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gym, NYC, Starbucks, workouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-08-25 14:35:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futurevampiress/pseuds/futurevampiress
Summary: You always go for a run by yourself every morning. It’s a little boring, to say the least, until someone comes along and makes it worth while.





	1. Chapter 1

Day 27 of your morning run.

You never thought that you’d willingly get up so early to embrace the sweltering morning weather that New York City has to offer during the summer. You can’t believe how hot it is at 6am; 32° is enough to get you sweating while you’re getting dressed. Your back is damp as you tighten your laces.

You started a new training program to better your mind and body. The first three days focus on weight training, two on cardio, and two days of rest while flushing all your toxins and eating  _a lot_  of fruits and vegetables. There are days where you have cheat days, just because you can. You live alone in a small apartment, so there’s no one there to stop you.

It’s clear, sunny, and  _hot_  as the humid air blasts you in the face. You tighten your ponytail and fix the beak of your cap before strapping your phone in your arm band, turning on your Bluetooth and connecting it to your headphones. You set the volume on high, not wanting to be distracted by the strangers around you.

You don’t bring water with you. You can run for five miles and just be a little thirsty.  But since it’s  _this_  hot already… you don’t know if you can make it all the way to Starbucks without having a heat stroke. You hope there’s at least going to be a breeze.

There isn’t.

30 minutes into your run and you’re already dying of thirst and exhaustion. Usually you avoid running outside because of days like this; a treadmill or elliptical is definitely the way to go, but you were feeling adventurous today. And you’re regretting it already.

You stop several times to catch your breath and wipe the sweat rolling down your face. The only thing keeping you going at this point is the upbeat, epic music flowing through your ear drums right now. You flick your eyes up at the crowded street.

“You can do this,” you tell yourself. “It’s all for you.”

Standing up straight, you take a deep breath and wipe your clammy palms on your shorts. Jumping in place, you get ready to start jogging again when some guy skips past you, nearly knocking you over.

“Hey!”

He doesn’t stop, nor does he turn around to acknowledge you. Now there’s added fuel to your fire.

“It’s on.”

You turn your volume up a little bit louder and run to catch up with him. You weave in and out of throngs of people with ease, twisting your hips left and right to maneuver between and around them. You successfully catch up to him at a crosswalk, and you jog in place to keep yourself moving. You give him one quick glance. He’s wearing a baseball cap, sunglasses, a muscle shirt, and has headphones on.

_That’s why he couldn’t hear me._

If he says anything to you, you either can’t hear him, or you’re not paying attention. Or both. It’s probably both. As the hand sign changes to “walk”, you go sprinting ahead of him. You hope to god that he follows you, only so you can show him up by running faster.

You bump into a few people this time, earning a few dirty looks and dirty words, but you’re used to it by now. It’s NYC. You know how people can be this early in the morning. At one point, you accidentally make a man spill his coffee on himself, and you can’t help but laugh as you look over your shoulder. The man looks like he wants to kill you for ruining his work attire.

“Someone stop that stupid bitch!“

“Don’t worry, sir! I’ve got her!”

As you see the Running Man sprinting to catch up to you, you go faster, no matter how much your leg muscles scream in protest. You’re pretty sure you’re going to be satisfied with the amount of steps your Fitbit tells you at the end of this.

You’re approaching another crosswalk, and the “don’t walk” sign is blinking. You’re pretty sure you can make it. It sucks that it doesn’t count down, but you’ve got to make your choice. You take another look behind you; Running Man is smiling now, and he’s closing in on you. Oh, you’re  _definitely_  going to make it. You have to at this point, to get ahead of him.

You sprint with all your might; your legs feel like jelly, your lungs are yelling for air, and your tongue is as dry as the weather. Nevertheless, you push yourself to keep going. You’re a few seconds too late when the sign stops blinking. It’s only a few more steps, so you look both ways before stepping onto the road. Your heart leaps out of your chest when a taxi comes zooming around the corner.

“Shit shit shit!”

The car nearly clips you, and you throw the finger up at it. More cars honk their horns, but you couldn’t care less. When you’re safely on the other side, you turn around and wink at Running Man, who’s shaking his head with his hands on his hips.

“Catch me if you can!”

You lick your lips and put your hand over your chest. Your heart is on fire, begging you to stop and rest. You do for a couple seconds, breathing in deeply, and breathing out just the same. You cheekily give him the finger too and you’re off again.

* * *

Somehow, someway, you manage to make it to your desired destination in one piece. You had to take a detour because of construction, and you nearly snapped some guy’s wrist when he got a little too touchy. You’re dripping in sweat, and you know that it’s noticeable. People give you weird looks as you step through the Starbucks entrance. You most likely smell like death, but you don’t care one bit. Your legs are barely keeping you up, and your heart hurts so much, you’re surprised you haven’t had a heat stroke yet. You let your headphones fall around your neck and pause your music. You pull out the $10 from behind your phone case, ready to order a venti of something thirst quenching. Once you get to the front, you clear your throat so it’s not as raspy.

“Can I have a venti cool lime refresher, please?” you ask.

“Sure thing. Can I get your name?”

“_______.”

“That’ll be $5.47.”

You hand the barista your $10 and wait to the side to collect it. After a minute or so, you have your drink in hand and sit down at a table near the window, take off the lid, and start chugging it down. You suck on the lime wedge and sigh loudly when half of your drink is gone. You take off your hat and set it on the table. You’re  _still_  catching your breath, so you lean back in your chair and close your eyes. Running five miles in the blazing heat in New York City? You’re never doing that again. You’re just going to stick to your treadmill with the A/C blasting in the background.

As you take another sip, the chime of the entrance door catches your attention. You nearly choke on your drink.

_It’s Running Man!_

You scrunch your nose at him after you wipe your mouth and shrink down in your seat. You twist your cup on the table and steal a couple glances anyway. When you take a closer look, he seems sort of… familiar. You can’t exactly place him because he’s still wearing his sunglasses and hat, but now it’s bugging you. The more you stare at him, the more it comes back to you. And when he takes his drink and faces you fully, you finally recognize him.

_Oh no no no. That’s Sebastian Stan. I gave Sebastian Stan the finger while running away from him. What have I done?!_

He lifts his red drink to his lips, but stops halfway when he sees you sitting in the corner. He smiles widely and puts his sunglasses on top of his hat. Your breath hitches when you see how beautiful he is up-close. His eye crinkles are adorable. But your admiring is cut short when he starts walking towards you.

_No. Don’t. No no no no no n–_

And now he’s sitting in front of you.

“Morning,” he greets you, taking a sip of his very berry hibiscus refresher.

“Good morning,” you reply shyly.

_God I must look like a fucking mess._

“You beat me,” he says, tipping his drink at you.

“U-Uhh. B-Beat you?” you stutter. “What do you mean?”

“You beat me to Starbucks,” he laughs.

“Oh. Y-Yeah,” you laugh nervously. “How’d you know I was coming here?”

“I didn’t,” he replies. “I come here every now and then.“

“Coincidence, then?” you ask, gulping down the rest of your refresher.

“Probably.”

You raise an eyebrow and set down your empty cup. Here sits Sebastian Stan in a small Starbucks store, having a conversation with you, and you don’t hear any screaming. No quiet, polite requests for autographs, not even a glance his way. It’s… relaxing.

_I guess people are used to his presence here._

You don’t want to waste a perfectly good opportunity to have a chat with Sebastian Stan before he has to leave, so you’re going to make the most of it.

“So,” you start, your heart hammering again, “you nearly knocked me over a few miles back.”

He almost spits out his drink.

“I’m sorry,” he laughs. “I-I did?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “I was about to start running and you blew past me. Almost kicked me on my ass.”

“Ohhh okay, now I remember,” he says. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I got my revenge on you by beating you here.”

“That you did,” he agrees. His smile is intoxicating, and you can’t help but smile along with him. “But you almost got hit by a taxi! Do you realize that?!”

“But I didn’t,” you say proudly. “Pissed a few people off, but I just wanted you to lag behind.”

“Lag behind?” he repeats. “What for?”

“You were chasing me,” you explain. “I didn’t know why. I  _still_  don’t know why. And I’m not even sure  _you_  know why.”

“You spilt a man’s coffee!” he laughs. Man, that is a beautiful sound. “I was trying to stop you to apologize to the poor guy!”

“Ha! I was doing him a favour,” you say. “That tie was hideous. And I’m not an expert in men’s fashion, but it was just so  _ugly_.”

He laughs and nods his head, taking another sip of his drink. He takes off his hat and sunglasses, and runs a hand through his hair. You stare shamelessly, and cover your mouth to hide your snort. That doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“What?” he asks.

“Your hair is sticking up,” you whisper, your smile growing and your laughing bubbling.

“And now you know why I always workout in a hat,” he says, gripping his hair. “This is what happens.”

“It’s not too bad,” you say. “Funny as it is, it’s actually kind of cute.”

He smiles a toothy grin and scratches the back of his neck as he looks at the table. Well. That certainly wasn’t adorable at all. You’ve seen in interviews how he reacts to being complimented. And boy it is even better seeing his reaction when you’re a foot away from him.

“As are you,” he replies, pulling the corner of his mouth into a smirk. Now it’s your turn to be embarrassed. You cross your arms and look at your lap, shaking your head.

“I give you the finger, and you call me cute,” you sigh. “How does that even work?”

“It doesn’t,” he says. “B–“

“Sorry ‘bout that,” you apologize. “I was feeling pretty confident and energized. I didn’t know who you were, but I couldn’t help myself. New York is crazy, so it’s easy for me to react that way.”

“Really, it’s okay,” he smiles kindly. “However.”

You raise an eyebrow and look at him suspiciously.

“Yeees?”

“If you’re really sorry about flipping me off, maybe you could make it up to me.”

“And how would I do that?”

He takes out his phone from his pocket and unlocks it. You look from him to his phone, and back again. He fiddles around a bit, and then hands it to you. He actually hands you his phone.

“What do you w–“

You look down, and see he’s set his phone up for a new contact.

“You can put your number in there,” he says. “As your way of making it up to me.”

_What. In the fuck._

Sebastian Stan,  _the_ , Sebastian Stan, The Winter Soldier, Dr. Chris Beck, TJ Hammond, Jonathan Benjamin, is sneakily asking for your number? Remember when you were regretting taking a run outside? Yeah, you’re not thinking that anymore. You’re completely speechless, so you just bite your bottom lip to keep your smile at bay and fill in your contact information. You hand it back to him, and he frowns.

_Uh oh. No. Please don’t make that face. I’m not lying. I would never lie to–_

“You’re missing something,” he says, opening his camera.

“What? What am I missing? Where I live? Look, no matter who you are, I’m not–"

You hear a small click, and you realize what he did.

“Nooo!” you whine, covering your face. “You don’t need my picture!”

“Oh, but I do,” he smirks. He turns his phone around to show you. Your mouth is open from talking, some stray hair strands are sticking out to the side, and your face is still flushed.

“Delete that right now,” you demand.

“Why? You look beautiful in it,” he smiles, turning it back around to look at it.

“Shut up,” you say quickly. You keep covering your face to hide your embarrassment. You complimenting him? You’d do it every chance you ever saw him. But  _him_  complimenting  _you_? That’s just unreal. You smile mischievously, pulling out your phone and holding it up, pretending to go to your contacts.

“Hey, Sebastian.”

“Hmm?”

He looks up just in time for you to take the picture, and it is perfect. He’s licking his lips and his eyes are wide open, his hair still sticking up like someone rubbed a balloon in it. You now actually go to your contacts and go to add a new one, making his display picture the one you just took. You hand it over to him.

“Your turn.”

He smiles and does just that. He doesn’t complain about his display picture; he just chuckles quietly to himself. He hands your phone back to you and finishes his drink. He looks at the time on his phone, and he sighs sadly.

“I gotta go,” he pouts.

“The studio awaits,” you say. He smiles kindly, getting up from his seat, putting his hat and sunglasses back on.

“I’ll see you around, _______.”

“Later, Sebastian.”

The both of you wave at each other, and he doesn’t look away from you until you’re completely out of his view. You sigh contently, and lean back in your chair. You still can’t even process what happened. You went for a morning jog in the blazing sun, nearly got knocked down by Sebastian Stan, you  _raced_ Sebastian Stan, almost got run over by a taxi, and openly flirted with Sebastian Stan in a Starbucks shop. And in turn, you exchanged numbers. You’re definitely going to go for morning jogs outside more often.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After encountering the infamous Sebastian Stan on a morning run and exchanging numbers, you’ve become much more active with your running, training regimen be damned. Sebastian is an absolute sweetheart when it comes to you, in more ways than one.

It’s been three weeks since you officially met Sebastian Stan in a small Starbucks shop. A permanent smile has been etched onto your face since then. You’ve sent him good morning and goodnight texts, and always one telling him to have fun at work. Sometimes he’d reply a few minutes after, and sometimes it’d be hours until you’d receive a message. You didn’t mind though; the simple fact that you were texting him in the first place was enough to have your heart soaring. You’ve had a few morning runs together, and you’re surprised you haven’t seen many pap pictures in any of the magazines littered across the city. It’s a bit of a relief. You don’t get any death threats, and your friends aren’t constantly asking you questions about what Sebastian’s like and if they can meet him. However…

Your friends instantly notice a change in your behaviour without knowing anything. Having a desk job with 50 other people in the room did not have many perks. You would sit at your computer, typing away, with a small frown on your face. But when you showed up to work with a wide grin plastered on your face today, your friends bombard you with questions and assumptions.

“Okay, so who are they?”

“You caught a lot of Pokémon yesterday, didn’t you?”

“She definitely got off good last night.”

“_______ saw a dog on the way to work no doubt.”

Only one of them is right, but you don’t tell them why you’re so energized. You just keep on smiling and leave them guessing after lunch. They have no idea that after work, you’ll be meeting Sebastian for a late afternoon training session with him. That will prove to be interesting.

You skip out of the office, quickly gathering your things and practically running past your friends so you don’t have to deal with their prying antics. You whip out your phone, sending a quick text to Sebastian before driving home.

“Just got off work. Be there as soon as I can!”

Luckily enough, you get a text back right when you’re about to start the engine.

“Can’t wait. Drive safe :)”

“I will!”

You shove your phone back in your bag and zoom on home, the same smile from this morning still stuck on your face. You send a quick hello to your neighbour before stripping down as soon as you walk through the front door of your apartment. You keep your makeup on, but toss your hair up in a ponytail and throw on your workout clothes: a purple holly tank and a Pissarro patterned salar crop capris from Fabletics. Comfortable, yet  _very_  fashionable. You slice up some pineapple, eating a few pieces before lacing up your running shoes and grabbing your phone and headphones. You prepare a bag for afterwards, stuffing a pair of jeans and a frilly white shirt into it. You strap your phone in your arm band, begin one of your playlists, and run out the door again, jogging to the gym to meet Sebastian.

Unbeknownst to you, Sebastian has a little something up his sleeve.

* * *

The gym isn’t far away, but you have to stop a few times to take pictures of the sky because it’s just so damn _pretty_. It’s only four hours until sunset, but it’s irresistible not to stop and stare at. You arrive at Blink Fitness in about fifteen minutes, opening the glass doors and going inside. You’re surprised you’ve never seen this place before. It’s a big glass building on West Bronx; then again, you hardly ever walk or drive down this road to get to work. It’s like you’re entering a whole new part of town that you never knew about.

The inside of Blink Fitness is bright and colourful. There’s blue on the floors and walls, with orange and green accents. There’s three fridges filled with water and G2 to your left, and two TVs on the wall to your right, playing various workout videos. There’s an array of treadmills against the back wall behind the front desk. You’re impressed with this place already.

You pause your music and let your earphones fall around your neck. You step up to the front desk, and you’re greeted by a smiling female employee named Amanda.

“Welcome to Blink Fitness,” she says. “How can I help you today?”

“I was wondering if a man came in here earlier,” you ask, looking around for Sebastian. He’s not on a cardio machine. Maybe he’s upstairs?

“What’s his name?” she asks.

“Sebastian,” you say.

“Oh! Are you _______?”

“That’s me.”

She pulls out a folded piece of paper from one of the drawers and hands it to you.

“He left this for you about half an hour ago.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

You take the paper from her hands and turn around as you open it. Scribbled in Sebastian’s handwriting is a small message.

“Catch me if you can! Follow the signs if you want to keep up.”

There’s a smiley face at the end of the page with his name written beside it. You smile like an idiot and cover your face with his note. You go back outside, looking left and right. On the side of the building, there’s a single sheet of paper with a red arrow pointing down the street. You fold the paper and toss it in your bag, plug your music back in, and follow the signs, just as Sebastian said.

* * *

The signs were easy enough to follow. Sebastian even made some arrows extra big so you could see them from a distance. You ran for about twenty minutes before you came across one that had an envelope attached to it. Inside was another note and some money, telling you to stop and have something to eat and drink. You shook your head at how thoughtful he was being. The envelope was right beside a market; either that was a pure coincidence, or he did it on purpose. You picked up an apple and a water bottle, finishing them both before going back on your merry way.

After running along the Joe DiMaggio highway, Sebastian’s signs has lead you to the middle of Times Square. Now you’re really lost. You can’t see anymore signs from where you’re standing. At least you have time to catch your breath. You pause your music again to concentrate on finding Sebastian in the sea of people.

You get to higher ground, climbing the red steps in the middle of the street. It’s practically impossible to pinpoint one person in Times Square like this. You take your phone from your armband and call Sebastian’s number. After a few rings, it goes to voicemail.

_He must not hear it because of all the assholes honking their horns._

You’re about to call him again when you hear someone calling your name.

“_______! _______! Come find me!”

_Sebastian._

You look all around you like you’ve lost your mom in a grocery store, squinting in certain areas, searching for Sebastian’s beautiful face. By the sound of his voice, you think it came from behind you. You lean over the railing, gripping the metal. You don’t have to look very far, because Sebastian’s standing outside of the Olive Garden. And instead of hotdog stands, there’s several yoga mats laid out on the concrete. You smile and wave at him, and he does the same. You sprint down the steps, and recklessly cross the street to meet up with him.

“Hey,” you greet, looking down at the mats. “That’s quite the adventure you sent me on.”

“Did you hate it?” he asks, fixing his backwards cap.

“Surprisingly, no,” you reply with a smile. “It was different and refreshing. A little disappointing though.“

“Disappointing how?”

“You weren’t with me.”

He smiles wide and looks down at the ground like he always does when you compliment him. It’s one of your favourite things about him, amongst everything else.

“Well, I’m here now,” he says.

“That you are,” you agree. “So, what’s all this? Are we doing yoga out here?”

“Something like that.”

It makes you a little nervous to be exercising in the middle of New York with all these people walking by. With  _Sebastian Stan_ , of all people. But despite the embarrassment and glares from some girls who know who he is, you’re kind of excited. This is something you never dreamed of doing before. And now that the chance is presented in front of you, you don’t even need time to think about your decision.

You drop your bag to the ground and put your hands on your hips.

“Are we actually doing yoga?” you ask. “Or do you have another interesting twist in mind?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

He waves to someone inside of the Olive Garden, and out comes his personal trainer, Don Saladino. You raise an eyebrow but smile kindly at him.

“Your trainer?” you say to Sebastian.

“Yup,” he says. “He’s here to help us today.”

“Train, or take videos for an hour?” you tease. “I’ve seen his Facebook posts when he’s ‘training’ you guys.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he did the same thing today,” he says. He greets Don while you fix your hair and wipe some sweat off your face. Some makeup comes off with it, but that’s to be expected. You wait off to the side until they’re done conversing.

“Don, this is _______,” Sebastian says, gesturing to you.

“Ahhh. So this is the one that beat your ass while running,” Don laughs, shaking your hand. You like him already.

“Yes I did,” you say proudly.

“And you nearly killed yourself while doing so,” Sebastian reminds you. You wave him off.

“You need to stop using that one on me,” you say. “Because I’m still not sorry about it.”

“Okay, well, try and catch up to  _me_  today,” he challenges.

“So let’s stop the couple bickering and get to it then, Seb,” Don interjects. Neither of you correct him on his assumption on you two dating. You just smile and nod.

Don gets his phone out, and goes to Facebook to start a live recording. You cover your face with one hand and hide your growing smile.

“All right, everyone,” he starts, holding his camera up to his face. “We are in the middle of Times Square, outside of the Olive Garden. I got Seb here with me–“ He walks around to stand beside Sebastian. “–and his new friend, _______.” You step into the frame, smiling and waving. “This is going to be an interesting one today. We’re actually training outside in this fucking heat because Sebastian said so.”

“I’m trying something new,” Sebastian defends.

“You already sent this poor girl on a witch hunt for you,” Don says, knocking Sebastian’s cap off. “That’s new enough.”

Sebastian picks up his hat and puts it back on.

“Well we’re already here, so let’s get on with it, Don.”

“Rightyo.”

Now Don waves to someone inside the Olive Garden. A guy comes out with two ab rollers and lays them on the mats before going back inside.

“Is this a workout session or a competition?” you ask.

“Why can’t it be both?” Sebastian suggests.

You stick your tongue out at him and sit cross-legged on one of the mats, playing with the roller in front of you.

“Looks like _______ is ready to go and beat your ass again, Seb,” Don says.

“Like I’ll let that happen.”

Sebastian gets down on his own mat and grabs the roller. The both of you get on your knees and grab the handles, and you look up at Don, ready for his signal to begin.

“What? You guys are waiting for me?”

“Yeah, man! Hurry up!” Sebastian laughs.

“Okayyy. Go as long as you can, and the first one who stops, loses. The winner gets to choose the loser’s punishment. Get going, you two.”

You and Sebastian start rolling on Don’s count. You keep your head up, looking at Sebastian as you roll in and out, your faces nearly touching. The ab roller is one of your favourite pieces exercise equipment, so you’re already used to its movements. It’s still a workout because it targets your abs, and your arms get a little shaky, but it’s definitely worth it. Especially when you’re doing it with Sebastian.

He seems to have used one before, since he’s not wavering one bit. He gives you a cheeky smile every now and then, and you can hardly hear Don’s voice narrating your workout over the bustle and noise of everyone else around you. And because of how incredibly loud Sebastian’s smile is. After ten minutes of hardcore ab rolling, your arms are getting weaker, your palms clammier. You notice that a small crowd has gathered around you, and some have stopped on the other side of the street to watch you and Sebastian.

_I definitely have to beat him now._

You grip the handles tighter, no matter how slippery they may be, and pick up the pace. You even get up on your toes and spread them apart as you attempt to take Sebastian down. You can hear Don shouting and teasing Sebastian about it, so Sebastian does the same thing. He gets off his knees and on his toes instead, grunting as he rolls out farther. You almost bump heads, which honestly, wouldn’t exactly be the worst thing.

“Getting tired yet?” you ask him.

“Nope,” he says quickly. Though his face says otherwise. His brows are furrowed and he’s breathing deeply. You’re going at your own paces, so if Sebastian keeps this up, he’s going to fail before you do.

“Oh, Jesus.”

Sebastian stops midway through a roll, and you can see his arms buckling. You smile in victory, but you can’t let him get ahead of you. He could just be taking a small break. He rolls out again, but his arms flop and he lays down on the mat. You let go of your roller and laugh at him as he catches his breath.

“I win!” you yell. Some people clap around you, but you don’t care. You just poke Sebastian’s head. “Come on. It’s time to pay up.”

“Nooo,” he groans. You can hear the smile in his voice. He sits up and wipes his hands on his shorts.

“It’s time for Seb’s punishment,” Don says, shoving the phone in his face. Sebastian glares at the camera and shoves Don away. He goes over to you instead. “So what’s he gotta do?”

You bite your bottom lip, and lean forward as you grab the cap from his head and put it on your own.

“You’re not wearing your hat for the rest of the session,” you say, eyeing his hair.

“No!” Sebastian whines. “Come ooon! Anything but my hat, honestly!” He grabs a fistful of his hair and pouts at you.

“Pffft, someone’s a sore loser,” Don comments.

“You’ll get it back eventually,” you say, swiping your thumb across the beak. “But for now, you must suffer hat hair.”

“Fine,” Sebastian surrenders, holding his hands up. “I give. Don, what’re we doing next?”

“We’re going to do some yoga poses next,” you say before Don can say anything. Sebastian gives you a look. “I didn’t say my punishment was over. Come on. They’re easy. Even you can do it.”

Don laughs behind his phone, and points at the space between you and Sebastian. Sebastian sighs, but puts a smile on because secretly, he doesn’t care. Yoga with you? Yes please.

“Okay, so this one is called ‘Half Lord of the Fishes’ pose,” you begin, turning around so your back is to him. “It’s really easy. Basically our backs are together, and we just twist the other way.”

Sebastian nods and scoots closer to you, then turns around and presses his back against yours. He crosses his legs and waits for further instruction.

“We’re gonna hold each other’s left knee as we twist slightly to the right,” you explain, reaching around you to gently hold his knee. He does the same, and your heart beat hammers in your chest when you can feel his back muscles. “Okay, good. Now, with every exhale, keep twisting to the right to find more space until our breathing is synchronized.”

Sebastian closes his eyes to concentrate since he wants to do this correctly. You have the biggest grin on your face, for obvious reasons. After a minute or so, the two of you have successfully synced your breathing. You slowly let go of him and swing around to face him. He lazily turns around and stretches his arms over his head. You flick your eyes down to his exposed abs before paying attention again.

“I think I almost fell asleep,” Sebastian laughs, running a hand through his hair.

“Relaxing, isn’t it?” you say.

“Very.”

“Well, the next one is even more relaxing.”

The Bound Angle pose proves to be one of Sebastian’s favourites, because Don keeps shoving his knee to wake him up. Being bent over on the ground while you lay against him is something you definitely won’t forget. He does the same to you, stretching himself over your back. He teasingly stretches a little farther until your head is almost touching the ground, and you laugh as you yell at him to stop. You roll him off of you and tap his nose.

“Do that again, and you’re never getting this hat back,” you smile.

“Keep it,” he says. “Looks better on you anyway.”

Here comes the blush.

“Last pose,” you say shyly, helping him stand up. “This is definitely one that  _I’m_  going to enjoy, anyway. It’s you just lifting me on your back. But instead of looping arms, our palms are going to be facing up against the other.”

“So, holding hands, basically?”

“If you wanna put it that way, then yeah.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Sebastian. If you wanted to hold my hand you could’ve just asked.”

He raises a brow as he smiles at you, playfully shoving your shoulder. The itching thought that he actually  _wants_  to hold your hand is enough to keep the unsteady beat of your heart going.

You stand back to back, then he bends down a little so you can lean against him. You loop arms with him for a second so he can lift you off the ground. Once you’re settled, you clasp your hands together, and lay there on his back with your eyes closed. You can still hear Don cheering and laughing as he keeps recording.

“This girl is fucking amazing,” he says. “Look what she has Seb doing! Never did I think that he’d do something like this. This is insane.”

Without even thinking about it, you start to gently rub your thumbs over his, and bite your bottom lip as you smile. You can’t see his face, but Sebastian smiles so wide his face hurts. He smoothes his thumbs over yours too, and you swear, your heart is about to burst from the happiness you feel. It’s a tiny gesture, but it means so much.

“You can put me down now,” you yell over the crowd. He puts you down gently and stretches again.

“Fuck, that felt good,” he says, cracking his knuckles.

“I don’t want you to be left out though,” you pout.

“How so?”

You turn to Don, and smile sweetly at him.

“Don, how about you lift Sebastian on your back?”

He laughs loudly, holding his stomach. When he looks back at you, he realizes you’re serious. He’s cool about it though, handing you his phone. You focus the camera on a complaining Sebastian and a willing Don, who’s trying to pick him up by force.

“Look at these beefcakes,” you speak into the camera. “Fucking ridiculous. Sebastian, just do it! It stretches out your back nice and good!”

He’s about to tell you off when Don easily leans over and pulls Sebastian on his back. The crowd applauds and cheers at the pair, yourself included.

“Atta boy!” you shout. “Look at this plum, looking small with his feet dangling in the air. Incredible.”

Sebastian just looks about done with his life as he unwillingly lays against his trainer’s back. You step closer and hold the camera over Sebastian’s face.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve made poor life decisions.”

You laugh uncontrollably at his answer, the phone losing focus as you try to regain your composure. Don stands up and lets Sebastian stand on his own two feet. Don ruffles Sebastian’s hair, and Sebastian smoothes it down while giving him a look.

You hand Don his phone back and stand at Sebastian’s side, smiling up at him.

“Fun, isn’t it?”

“I’d rather be on  _your_  back than his,” he confesses. You pretend that doesn’t do things to you, and instead respond “honestly”.

“You’d probably crush me with all the muscle you’re carrying,” you point out, poking his biceps. “I may be strong, but not that strong.”

“I beg to differ,” he counters. “You lasted longer than I did on the ab rollers.”

“Only because I went at my own pace,” you say. “You tired yourself out too soon.”

“I was trying to impress you,” he blurts out.

“Oh, Sebastian,” you breathe, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You already impress me enough by willingly turning yourself into a meme. There’s no need to go any further than that.”

He laughs his beautiful laugh as you remind him of his antics, and does Chris Evans’ infamous left boob grab on himself. You have a moment while he’s enjoying himself, admiring everything about him that makes him  _him_. How selfless he is during fan-meets at cons, how excited he gets when someone speaks Romanian to him, and just how he’s an overall precious person.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” you tell him. He can tell you’re being genuine because of the natural expression you’re wearing, like it was something that he’s supposed to hear everyday.

He looks towards the ground with his hands on his hips and beams at the concrete. He’s heard compliments like that time and time again, but hearing it from someone he’s only known for a few weeks… it feels different. He still has a lot to learn about you, which is why his heart flutters every time you compliment the smallest parts about him. It’s a feeling he doesn’t want to let go of.

“Fucking kiss her already,” Don says behind the camera. Neither of you hear him. Sebastian just stares at you fondly.

“Thanks,” he finally replies. He seems to realize just how many people have stopped to watch the two of you. A lot of them have their phones out, taking pictures and recording what’s happening. He should be used to it by now, but he feels a little violated because he’s with you this time. However, he keeps his cool, and turns to you.

“You wanna–“

As he looks behind you, he notices a group of paparazzi coming your way. He smirks, getting a better idea, then looks back at your questioning face.

“Wanna run away from the paps?” he suggests.

You look over your shoulder, and see a bunch of men and women with their cameras out, some of them already stopping to snap a pic. You turn back to Sebastian, and nod your head.

“Definitely.”

You quickly grab your bag from the ground and stuff your phone and headphones inside. You and Sebastian shout a goodbye to Don, leaving him clueless about what just happened. You and Sebastian have a laugh fest on your chase from the paps, and he reaches out and grips your hand, pulling you along as you engage in another one of your runs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Sebastian have grown considerably close over the past few weeks. Now, instead of taking you on a run, he’s taking you on a date.

You were caught red-handed.

Well. You were caught holding Sebastian’s hand.

After that little run-in with the paparazzi in Times Square, your secret…  _friendship,_  with Sebastian was finally out in the open. Your pictures were plastered everywhere: you and Sebastian holding hands, running away from the paps, all the while you were wearing his hat. You kept it after you two parted ways that day. He didn’t seem to mind; he said to keep it after all.

The magazine articles are focusing on who you are. They can certainly recognize Sebastian’s face from a mile away. But they have no clue who you are. Who would? You work a small cubicle job just like thousands of others. You’re nothing too special; but you are to Sebastian.

There was no hiding the truth from your friends now. Your article wasn’t the main story, but you did get a feature on the cover. You and Sebastian got two whole pages dedicated to your downtown New York shenanigans. An all-too flattering spread of you two fills the top half of the pages, the rest containing the written article. The headliner is “Sebastian’s New Girlfriend?”. As far as you know, you and Sebastian are just really good friends. Or running buddies? Running friends? Running…  _partners_? Something like that.

A thought’s been bothering you lately. What does Sebastian  _really_  think of you? He likes you for sure, because he’s been running with you all this time. But is that all there is? Liking this guy for more than a friend is a super easy thing to do. And you’re pretty sure you’ve already done that.

Your friends have been quiet about it, but they could just be lying in wait. They like to be “sneaky” like that. You’d think you’d be able to tell when they’re about to do something predictable, but you’re terrible at guessing. They’re experts in the poker face and acting like everything is normal. Would they act the same way this time around?

Turns out, they don’t.

As you’re typing away, filing reports, one of your friends–Sara–comes up to your cubicle and let’s the magazine spread dangle along your wall. You give it one glance before focusing on your computer screen again. It’s easier to suppress the urge to smile this time.

“What is this?” she asks, poking her head up over the wall.

“A magazine,” you reply smartly.

“Don’t give me that bullshit!” she harshly whispers. “What is this, huh? Why didn’t you tell us?!” She points at the picture of you and Sebastian. You shrug your shoulders.

“Because I didn’t want to,” you answer.

“_______!” she drawls.

“Sara, please,” you quietly beg. “Don’t make a scene while we’re working.”

“After?” she asks hopefully.

“After,” you sigh.

Sara skips away giggling, and you breathe hardly through your nose. You really hope you won’t regret this.

* * *

You prayed and wished that “after” wouldn’t come. But it did. Your work friends banded together and made sure that you wouldn’t ditch them. Sara, Lily, Spencer, and Christine waited for you at the parking lot, ready to ambush you.

“So when you were all smiley that one day,” Christine begins, “it wasn’t because you saw a dog. It was because you were with Sebastian Stan?”

“Yes, Chris,” you confirm. “I went out for a run and ran into him. Well,  _he_  almost ran into  _me_ , but whatever. Yeah.”

“And you didn’t think to tell us this because?” Spencer asks, rolling her hand to get you to continue.

“Because I didn’t want a big freak out,” you reply honestly, unlocking your car. You keep going when all of them are about to have a spasm. “I know, I know. He’s a celebrity and all, but I just wanted to keep this a secret. No offense at all to you guys.”

“How long has this been going on?” Lily asks.

“Over a month now.”

“A month?!”

You flinch at their outburst. You sigh and gently push them away to get to your car door.

“It’s not that big a deal,” you say, getting in the front seat. “We just take runs together. Nothing else.”

“Not according to the magazines,” Sara mentions, holding it up for you to see again. You shake your head at it.

“I’m not his girlfriend,” you tell them, slamming the door shut and rolling the window down.

“When are you going to see him again?” Spencer asks.

“Dunno,” you lie. You’re meeting him in three hours for dinner. But you’re definitely not telling them that. They’d probably follow you. “It’s a rest day for the both of us. Maybe a few days? He’s got a busy schedule. He doesn’t always have time for me.”

You’re not sure at that last point, because he seems to be doing a decent job of keeping in touch with you. You pull into reverse, and drive up beside them before leaving.

“You better tell us the details,” Lily says. “Pictures would be appreciated.”

“Yeah yeah, I know,” you wave her off. “I’ll see you guys on Monday.”

You drive off without another word, letting the wind whip your hair around on your way home. You’re too excited to give a care about anything, because tonight, you’re not running, nor having an outdoor training session with Sebastian. You’re having  _dinner_ with him. Receiving a text from him saying “Wanna give your legs a break and go out for dinner instead?” sends a  _totally_  different message than “Hey, wanna go out for another run?” Your heart is racing at the thought of seeing him in dress clothes.

The real challenge when you get home is not what you’re going to put away first to clean up the place, but what to put  _out_  to decide what to wear. You don’t know where you’re going, but it must be some place where it requires you to put effort into your outfit.

You have a lot of jeans and t-shirts, along with dress shirts and pencil skirts for work. You have two dresses at the most, which probably don’t qualify for an evening dinner. Then again, you don’t know where you’re going. Should you ask him? It’d be the logical thing to do. You don’t want to show up and he’s dressed to the nines while you’re sporting something as lame and simple as one of your band shirts with black skinny jeans. You’re having dinner with Sebastian Stan; not one of the knockoff members of One Direction from the US.

You glance over at your phone sitting on your dresser. Too many possibilities cross your mind, but you can’t take it anymore. You don’t want to embarrass yourself. You send a quick text to Sebastian, hoping that he answers in time.

“Should I dress like Daniel Radcliffe coming out of a theatre, or like Emma Watson in ‘The Bling Ring’?”

You toss your phone on your bed and plop down beside it as you wait for an answer. You busy yourself by showering and then throwing random outfits together and seeing what looks good together. As you’re about to put on something loose while you decide, Sebastian sends his answer.

“Dress in something that makes you feel like the beautiful person you are :)”

That doesn’t help you at all. At best, you’ll look decent, maybe even pretty if you do your makeup right. You groan in frustration and rummage through your closet again. Something that makes you feel beautiful? Black it is.

There’s an array of colours in your closet, but black takes over 90% of it. When you do more digging, you find some things tucked away because you could never see them. One in particular stands out. You ordered it off of SammyDress forever ago, saving it for when you’d go out with your friends. But you’ve been so busy with Sebastian and work that you never really got a chance to wear it. But since Sebastian’s asked you to dinner, you have your chance.

It’s a long sleeve black dress that comes up to your knees. The arms are cut out and are instead replaced with three loops embezzled with fake rhinestones. You lay it out on your bed since you still have two and a half hours before meeting up with Sebastian. It’s a little weird that he doesn’t know where you live so he can pick you up, but then again, you don’t need the whole world knowing. You don’t know where to meet him, so you text him again.

“Where am I meeting you?”

The grey bubbles pop up almost instantly, and he sends his reply.

“Outside Café China in Manhattan. The address is 13 East 37th Street.“

“Okay!”

It takes about half an hour to get there by train, so now you have about two hours until you leave. Lots of time to eat something light, get some work done, then get ready. Everything should go according to plan.

* * *

When you’re ten minutes away from leaving, your other shoe decides to hide on you and your purse spills itself all over the floor. You nearly yell from frustration, because you’ve been running around the last five minutes, putting the finishing touches on yourself and making sure you have everything. You slam your phone on the kitchen counter and bend over to pick up your purse’s contents, shoving them all back inside. You sling it over your shoulder and chuck your phone inside as well. You’ve already sent a text to Sebastian saying you’re leaving. That was almost fifteen minutes ago.

You manage to find your other wedge heel hidden under your couch. After strapping it on, you dig through your purse one more time to make sure you’ve got all the essentials: phone, red lipstick, small comb, an eyebrow brush, money, ID, health card, a printed picture of the outside of the restaurant, directions, and perfume. You quickly sniff your wrists, and notice that the previous spray has already disappeared. You spray yourself again to make sure it sticks before heading out the door.

* * *

You’ve only used the train a few times, three at the most, to get somewhere. You either walk or go by car, so taking the subway isn’t something you’re privy to. But it sure beats New York traffic jams.

You get out at Grand Central 42nd Street, and jog up to the stairs to the streets. You take out your directions, and follow them all the way to the restaurant. You profusely apologize to Sebastian over text about being late, but he tells you not to worry about it and that it’s okay. It’s just twenty minutes.

Taking the easiest route than from the one you printed out from MapQuest, you go down Park Ave all the way to East 37th Street, then take a right and walk all the way down until you can see Sebastian waiting outside. Well, you  _think_  it’s Sebastian. It’s hard to tell because it’s so dark out. But upon further inspection, you confirm that it  _is_  him. You could never forget that infectious smile.

“Hey!” you call, walking up to him.

“Glad you could make it,” he jokes, closing the distance to give you a hug.

_Fuck he smells good._

“Sorry again, about being late,” you apologize, pulling away. “I lost my shoe and then I couldn’t decide whether or not to drive or take the train. I walked the rest of the way here and I–“

“_______,” he interjects. “It’s fine, really. And you look amazing, if I might add.”

“Thanks,” you smile shyly. “So do you.” He’s wearing black dress pants and shoes, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up with a black button-up vest. And he has his hair parted to the side. He looks incredible.

He does the same thing, smiling at the ground and avoiding your eyes. It’s become overwhelmingly cute to see it on a daily basis.

“Shall we go inside?” you ask.

“Ah, yeah, of course,” he agrees.

The two of you are immediately greeted by a small, adorable Chinese woman, and you can’t help but smile. All of them are equally adorable, but the women more so.

“Name, please?” she asks, her thick accent dragging behind.

“Uh, two persons under ‘Stan’ for eight o'clock,” Sebastian answers. You bite your lip and look around. It’s a small establishment, but it’s long. There’s two tables immediately to your right, the both of them sporting booths against the window. The left wall has a small bar, while the rest of the restaurant is littered with tables and booths. It smells like noodles and chicken, making your mouth water. You’re so glad that Sebastian likes Chinese.

“Right this way.”

The Chinese woman leads the two of you to the back of the room and to the left. You can’t stop staring at the vintage Shanghai décor that you nearly run into the little woman.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” you whisper quickly, taking your seat. The woman waves you off and hands you your menus.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asks.

You don’t have enough time to go through their whole wine menu, so you opt for water at first. Sebastian gets something called “Old Fashioned”, and the woman goes off on her merry way to prepare your drinks.

“This place is really nice,” you comment, still looking around the room. “The Chinese screen behind me has flowers on it. That makes it all the better. These photos and paintings on the walls are amazing, and I can see a typewriter at the end of the room. I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.”

Sebastian can only smile as you gush about the place. He watches as your eyes light up when flowers are mentioned, and how big your smile is when you comment about the décor. He’s definitely going to take you here in the future.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says. “And that you like Chinese food. I probably should’ve asked first, but I–”

“Wanted the element of surprise?” you finish for him.

“Yeah,” he smiles. “And what a surprise it is.”

“It’s so pretty!” You really can’t stop talking about the place. “It’s small, but just big enough to do the job. Those white dangling strings are awesome. I love how it discreetly cuts off the front from the back. All the vintage stuff is probably the best thing though. Goddamn, it’s just so  _pretty_.”

Sebastian mentally cheers for himself for searching “40 best restaurants for a first date in NYC” into Google last minute. He was ambivalent about it at first because it seemed so far away from your place (not that he’d know). It’d be nice to know where you lived so he could take you home like a gentleman would, but he can’t do that if he’s drinking. As the Chinese woman comes down the hall with your drinks, he raises his hand.

“I’m sorry, but could I have a water instead please?” he asks.

“Of course,” she says, putting your water down and walking back with his “Old Fashioned” glass.

“You got somewhere to be after this?” you ask curiously.

“I hope so,” he smiles, trying not to sound like he has another date.

You raise an eyebrow at him but smile anyways. Obviously he has things to do. Going over a script maybe? A party? Sleep? Whatever it is, you wish you could be with him for it. The two of you go through the menu, eyes scanning over the pages. You’re surprised by how many meals there are. You usually get beef and broccoli, chicken balls, and deep fried wings from your regular Chinese place when you order in. But since Café China is more fancy, there’s some things you’ve never heard of before. You look for something close to what you get, and you decide on ordering something from the Dim Sum section.

“Bang bang chicken? Yes please. Do you know what you’re having?“

"I think I’m gonna go wiiith…” Sebastian glances around his menu before shutting it with a snap. “The chungking spicy chicken.”

“Really?” you say. “That has four peppers beside it. Can you handle all that spice?”

“I’ll just get a lot of water,” he says.

You smile in response and close your menu also. The two of your order when your waitress comes back, and then you’re left in a silence. Instead of thinking of conversation topics, a lot of interviews and vines pop into your head about Sebastian. You cover your mouth as you snort; he cocks his head to the side, and you wave him off.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I’m thinking of too many vines.”

“Vines?” he repeats. “Which ones?”

You’re surprised he knows what they are. He’s no Mark Ruffalo.

“Um,” you smile again, stretching wide. “It’s one of you actually. Not you as  _you_ , but as Bucky. It should be sad, but I was laughing so hard I cried.”

“Okay, now I have to see it,” he says.

You get out your phone and open your Vine app, going to your favourites and handing it over to him. You cover your mouth and lean your elbow on the table as you watch his reaction. You’re already dying of laughter before the video even starts. Sebastian is sputtering his laughter as he watches it.

“Oh my god,” he says, his grin as big as ever. You’re near producing tears, even though you’re not watching it. A six second video isn’t hard to remember. His laugh warms your heart, and your cheeks. They’re probably as red as ever right now, but you couldn’t care less. Sebastian is an adorable plum, and you’re never gonna let him get away.

“Funny, isn’t it?” you say.

“And sad,” he adds, still smiling at the screen. He hands your phone back, and you tuck it away.

“Your heart hurts from sadness and laughter,” you say. “Death and humour. The best kind of mix.”

“What?” he asks, still laughing. “How is death and humour the best mix?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” you say, taking a sip of your water. “Tumblr is a fucked up place filled with inappropriate humour. However, joking about death actually makes it less painful.”

“Are you serious?” he asks. You shrug.

“Just what I read,” you say. “Or something along those lines.”

You get more comfortable once the odd silence has passed. You avoid talking about his career as much as possible, because you just want to get to know him as a person. You’re sure he’d want that too; there’s a differennce between going out with Sebastian Stan the actor, and Sebastian Stan the person. Sure, you admire his acting abilities, but there’s more to him than that. There’s more to  _any_  actor than their work. They deserve more than that.

The chatter keeps going even after your food arrives. It’s just another thing to talk about. You offer him some of yours, and he offers you some of his. It’s definitely worth four peppers on the menu, because you’re pretty sure your tongue would’ve fallen off because of how hot it was. Three glasses of water later and you can still feel a slight burn. You don’t know how he can handle it. As you flip through the wine menu, one of the drinks catches your eye. “Lust, Caution” sounds magnificent at the moment. House infused strawberry vodka, Moscato, freshly squeezed lime juice, and simple syrup. All you saw was “strawberry vodka” and you called the waitress over to order one.

“Looks like I’ll be having a woozy ride home,” you comment.

“Maybe not,” Sebastian says, biting into another piece of chicken.

“Oh?” you say. “How so?”

“I could drive you home,” he answers nonchalantly.

“Oh.”

It’s not a disappointed “oh”. Rather an “you’re actually willing to drive me home” kind of “oh”. You smile sweetly, and slightly shake your head.

“You don’t have to,” you mumble. “The subway isn’t that bad. It’s pretty empty during the night.”

“Really, it’s no problem,” he says. “I have nowhere to be after this.”

_Didn’t he say before that he hoped he had somewhere to be? Did he mean my apartment?_

The thought makes you grin. You can’t resist Sebastian now. Not when he’s wearing that perfect smile and cute vest.

“Okay,” you surrender. “Thank you.”

“Anything to save you from the creeps on the subway,” he chuckles. “And being by yourself at night.”

“Can’t have that.”

“No we can’t.”

Dinner continues on jovially, you laughing every time Sebastian pulls a face at how hot his food is, and him complimenting how beautiful you’re smile is. The alcohol is making it easier to redden your cheeks. All you can do is mutter a bashful “thanks” and adding a “so do you” every time after. You find out he’s on a six month break from shooting, and you nearly spit out your drink at him. That was probably one of the most exciting things you’ve heard him say all day. Well, the date (this  _is_  a date, right?) was the first exciting thing, but the news of his break is close to breaking the number one slot. 

In all seriousness, this is the best date you’ve ever been on. The location, the people, the atmosphere. It’s very calming and inviting. The food is great, which is a plus. But overall, it’s who you’re with that makes it all worth while.

When the cheque comes, Sebastian snatches it away before you can even look at it. You pout at him, insisting that you should split it, but he shakes his head and starts pulling out his wallet.

“Ever the gentleman.”

“I try.”

You thank the employees and your waitress once Sebastian pays, then head outside to the warm New York air. Sebastian looks at your hands, and bites his bottom lip, wondering if he should take it. He opts to wait for now. He’ll get another chance. He leads you to his car, a black, Acura TLX according to the rear. You strap yourself in and he starts driving off.

“Tonight was awesome,” you say happily, looking out the window at the bright lights. “Thank you for dragging me out of my apartment on a Friday night.”

“My pleasure,” he says, giving you a quick side glance. The car ride is a comfortable silence with the music on low in the background. All you want to do is stare at Sebastian’s side profile as he drives, drink in every aspect about his face, memorize every detail. But it’d be too obvious. Unbeknownst to you, Sebastian wants to do the same. When you drive down East 42nd Street, you lightly tap his arm, telling him to pull over.

“Stop, stop, Sebastian!” you yell excitedly. “Right over here!”

Sebastian does as you say, pulling over across from the Grand Hyatt.

“What is it?” he asks, concern lacing his tone.

“Look over there!” you say, pointing across the street. “It’s a bakery! Come on, let’s get some dessert!”

You’re already out of the car and crossing the street before he can even answer you.

“_______!” he shouts after you.

When you enter “Baked by Melissa”, the strong smell of cupcakes floods your nostrils. It smells like heaven, and you’re not leaving without a piece of it. He walks in breathless, and stands beside you.

“Don’t run off like that,” he half laughs, holding his chest.

“But look!” you say, pointing at all the cupcakes. “Does this say ‘dessert’ or what?”

You browse through them all inside their glass casings, holding your face and trying not to squeal. The vodka is really getting to you.

“Okay, since you paid for dinner, I’m paying for this,” you announce, pulling your best serious face for him. “No excuses.”

“All right, all right,” he surrenders. “Fair enough.”

“Yay!”

And since it’s  _your_  money, you’re going to get whatever you want, and Sebastian can’t stop you.

“Do you need any help?” the lady behind the counter asks.

“What’s the best thing to get after a stomach full of Chinese?” you ask, still browsing through the pastries.

“Well, we have cake assortments,” she answers.

“Oooh, that sounds good,” you say. “What do you have?”

“You can get 25 cupcakes for $25, 50 for $40, and 100 for $80,” she replies. “I recommend the 50, since you’re saving 20%.”

“Sold,” you say instantly. “I’m taking it.”

“_______,” Sebastian interjects. “Are you sure–“

“Sebastian,” you drawl, tapping his chest. “I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“If you say so,” he sighs, smiling all the while.

The lady rings up the box of 50 mini cupcakes, and you happily hand over the $40. You take the box, and Sebastian holds the door open for you as you run across the street back to the car, laughing loudly. You open the lid once you’re strapped in again, and gasp at all the colours. The flavours are written underneath the lid, and you immediately go for a cookies ’n creme cupcake, shoving the whole thing into your mouth.

“Wnn mnnn?” you ask with a full mouth.

“Pardon?” Sebastian laughs. You swallow before repeating yourself.

“Want one?” you ask again.

“Uhhh, sure.”

“What one?”

“Surprise me.”

You give him the tie-dyed one, and he happily accepts it, licking his thumb when he’s finished.

“These are great,” he comments, pulling into traffic again.

You hold out another one for him, and he opens his mouth without looking away from the road. He groans, licking his lips in satisfaction.

“Triple chocolate fudge,” you answer the question on his mind. “It really fills the mouth, doesn’t it?“

"Delicious,” he agrees.

You direct him through the streets back to your apartment as you keep eating the cupcakes and feeding Sebastian. The ride home is filled with laughter, soft music, and cupcakes. What setting could be better?

You pout once you reach your home, but you get out of the car anyway. Sebastian follows suit, opening the lobby door and walking up the stairs with you. You giggle to yourself because he’s being so sweet. He simply smiles because he loves your laugh. As you reach your front door on the fourth floor, you turn to him and sigh.

“This really has been a great night,” you say. “Most fun I’ve had in a while.”

“Are you saying our runs together aren’t enjoyable?” he asks, feigning being hurt.

“Of course not!” you protest. “But this was different. And different is great.”

“Maybe different should happen more often.”

“Maybe it should.”

You have no idea what else to say, so you just smile and look at the lid of the cupcake box. You smile back up at him, and open it.

“One for the road?” you ask.

“Sure.”

He picks one for himself this time, taking a red velvet cupcake and presses it against his mouth, the icing lingering on his lips. You blatantly stare at it, knowing that Sebastian notices you staring. He sticks his tongue out, licking some away. You clear your throat and look into his eyes instead.

_Goddamn his eyes are so blue._

You’re instinctively leaning forward, and he’s doing the same. Before you know it, your lips taste like vanilla icing with a hint of red velvet. Sebastian is kissing you. He is  _actually_  kissing you. Once you realize that, you smile so wide that you can’t even kiss him anymore. You pull away first and rest your forehead on his chest, licking your lips clean.

“Thanks,” you mutter, your heart racing a mile a minute. He kisses the top of your head and smiles.

“No problem,” he says, raising your chin. He gives you another peck, which you return.

“Goodnight, Sebastian,” you whisper, reaching behind you and unlocking your door.

“Already?” he pouts.

“Yes,” you reply. "I’ll see you later, ‘kay?”

He leans forward again for another kiss, but you shove another cupcake against his mouth.

“Goodnight, Sebastian,” you say again before retreating behind your door. Sebastian lingers outside, a tender smile on his face. He backs away from your door, whispering a goodnight himself, before going back downstairs to his car. He sits there for a minute, processing what just happened. His heart is as warm as ever, and his palms are clammy. He’s pretty sure his face is red, and he can’t stop thinking about you. He runs a hand through his hair, and shakes his head. He knows the signs. He’s not an idiot. He starts the car again, and begins his journey home. This is a night to remember for him, because this is probably the night where he thinks he’s fallen in love with you.


End file.
